Unaffected by this from experience, she pressed on. The Thin Kitten was a tavern as old as the city’s ports and acted as a poorly lit hangout for many of its workers. As the job market changed and morphed, so too, did the tavern. It was a busy place where the people of the slums would often find themselves. Regardless of whether they were a part of the criminal world or not.

  It was a tavern with shoddy drapes, and many windows. There was the smell of the ocean’s breeze that flowed inward, washing the tavern’s air. A stark contrast to what awaited her.

  Hiring only dwarves for their barmaids, you would often find the workers drinking amongst the patrons. Tonight, like most other nights, the tavern was full. All the poorly cared for tables and chairs occupied, sticky from spilled ale. People found themselves picking splinters out of their skin, though most didn’t care.

  The Thin Kitten had a basement that could only be entered if you knew the daily passphrase, which was a complex system. It took a couple of beatings, and muggings before Tennebris understood the pattern. Just as others had learned before, it was less about memorization, and more about matching intent to purpose.

  A large stout man stood before her, hand axes at his side. His outline completely blocked the doorframe. You would know it was there if you’d walked through it before, otherwise the man standing in front of it was far too intimidating to ask.

  Now only five feet in front of her, she grabbed his attention as she approached. “How’s the harvest in the stone fields?” His deep, baritone voice carried across to her.

  “We reap only rust and bones.” Tennebris replied. The question posed was not as it seemed on the surface. There were no fields, and there were no bones. It was a statement set to test anyone who may challenge entry to a place they didn’t belong. It didn’t matter how well known you became; the challenge was always given.

  “May the Grey Lady pass you by.” He retorted, stepping aside and opening the door behind him.

  The Grey Lady was a folk tale, given to urchins who challenged the idea of honor among thieves. She was a woman who had only enough coin to feed her children. For the first time that week she was able to find a job to feed herself. Later getting stabbed in the back for her share of the profits, her children passed away, forever waiting for a mother who would never return. Posthumously, she was a spirit who would seek out anyone who had misguided beliefs that they could get away with similar crimes.

  Since her death and haunting of the criminal underbelly, the statement was meant to pay homage to her.

  As Tennebris entered, revealed by the opened door, was a skinny human leaning against the wall at the bottom of the staircase. Passing this man, she was handed a coin, a reciprocation of interest for those who wished to enter. All dues must be paid, regardless of the service rendered. Pocketing what was to be the only coin she had on her, she descended into the underbelly.

  Keeping a single coin on her was a trick of survival that she had learned the hard way. If you didn’t pay the well, you weren’t welcome. This fact, they would not hesitate to make known.

  As she descended the familiar scent of stale ale, unwashed bodies, and simmering cooking fires replaced the air which carried the faint salt smell of the ocean breeze. Finding someone like Mheris in this warren of secrets would not be a simple task. Especially with the entire city in disarray.

  The city’s underbelly was a network of pathways that moved underground. Connecting several local businesses who had allied themselves with the cause, a web had formed. Businesses were incentivized to join, as it discouraged thievery. Mutually assuring their protections, it was a relationship that had formed over handshakes instead of daggers. These pathways were wide enough for carts to be moved from place to place with plenty of space on either side.

  Still, it wasn’t feasible as there were boxes scattered along the paths of the undercity. Some were empty, others were filled with merchandise that only a scarce few would care about. It became a dumping ground for unwanted spoils after a while. These pathways were barely lit from above. With the little light that filtered in, the scene was painted in muted greys and browns. The city’s guards both didn’t know, and didn’t care about this area, being told it was simply an abandoned section of the sewer system.

  Moving like a wisp of smoke through the grimy alleys, she sought out Mheris’ usual haunts. She wove past shadowy figures and the stench of forgotten refuse, her eyes darting from darkened doorways to upper-story windows.

  Not noticing a teetering wooden crate however, she bumped into it, sending it crashing to the ground. With a loud clatter, its contents spilled- mostly dented tin cups- across the rough cobble.

  As the echo faded, a stern voice cut through the din. “Well, well, what have we here?” a stout man, scarred and missing an eye, stepped out from a dimly lit entranceway of a local fence. Flanked by two equally intimidating figures, his gaze, even with only one eye, was unnervingly piercing. “New to the Guilded Avenue, eh? Don’t you know better than to make such a racket in these parts?” His hand hovered over a heavy cudgel at his belt. “This ain’t no playground for clumsy strays.”

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  Putting on an innocent fa?ade, she met the burly man’s gaze with seemingly bewildered eyes. “My apologies, good sir,” she said with a hint of vulnerability in her voice. “I am indeed new to these parts, and rather lost. I’m looking for a friend of mine, Mheris.”

  Feigning innocence in these situations rarely worked. If they didn’t believe this performance, Tennebris would be forced into a three-on-one fight that she simply didn’t have the strength or energy for. With only her dagger on her and after yesterday’s strenuous work, she was left with the gambler’s choice.

  The burly man’s scowl softened ever so slightly, a flicker of something akin to understanding in his single eye. He glanced at his companions, and then back to Tennebris. “Mheris eh? Ay, she’s known around here, keeps to herself mostly. Doesn’t take too kindly to strangers makin’ a fuss.”

  He gestured with his chin towards a narrow, shadowed alley just passed a local hangout frequented by thieves looking to unwind. It was little more than a hole in the wall, being carved out of the earth around it and walled in with leftover wood from open crates. “You’ll find her usual roost down that way. But tread lightly, Mheris’ bark is worse than her bite. Her knives though, are sharper than both.” He watched her for another moment, then, with a grunt, waved her on. Turning his attention back to his companions, he left Tennebris behind.

  “Well, that could have been worse.” She said quietly to herself.

  Gathering herself back up from her encounter, she moved to the familiar embrace of the shadows. Adjacent to the location pointed out to her, she attempted to survey the situation before moving in to approach. The burly man’s warning ringing in her head, her eyes scanned the area searching for Mheris’ presence. Suddenly, a flicker of movement registered in her perception.

  From a narrow doorway, almost perfectly blended with the shadows, a figure emerged. Mheris was just as described. Lean, clad in a dark leather vest, and with both hands casually resting on her daggers. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, were fixed on Tennebris with an unnerving intensity. She hadn’t been hard to find; she’d been waiting.

  “Lost, are we?” her voice was a low, gravelly rasp, cutting through the alley’s quiet murmur. “Or just clumsy?” Mheris didn’t move, but her posture was coiled, and ready to react.

  A wave of relief washed over Tennebris, only for the tides to recede, laying bare her sense of danger. Tennebris knew Mheris, but it was clear that Mheris didn’t recognize her.

  "Mheris! My name’s Tennebris, and while it’s clear you don’t remember me, I'm looking for help. This city is in dire need of assistance, and while this isn't the sort of place one typically goes looking, you were really the only person I felt I could trust. Was I wrong?"

  Mheris’ sharp gaze held Tennebris’ for a long moment, assessing her words, her posture, and the tremor of desperation in her voice.

  Mheris’ hand slowly withdrew from her daggers, though her stance remained guarded. A dry, humorless chuckle escaped her lips. “Trust? Here? That’s a good joke, Tennebris.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “But ‘help’ is a word that catches my ear. ‘Dire need’ usually means coin for those brave enough to look where others won’t. You weren’t entirely wrong.” She gestured to the overturned barrel and crate that Tennebris had knocked over.

  Indicating that Tennebris should sit to discuss things further, Mheris remained standing. Keeping her eyes fixed on Tennebris while she removed herself from the shadows she sat down, Mheris was looking her over. “Speak your piece then. But make it quick and make it worth my time. My patience is as thin as my pouch.”

  Tennebris took a deep breath to poise herself for the long-winded story she was about to tell. She mentioned the engagement at the gate, adventure outside in the forest, and the signs of this Apex Predator she had found. Finding herself speaking with a fervor that had surprised even her, she continued.

  After a couple of minutes, she finished telling her story with a sigh of relief. “If we can make a difference, a real difference, then it’s up to us to decide what drives us.”

  Listening with an unreadable expression, a faint smirk played on Mheris’ lips. “Morality, personal gain,” she rasped, a cynical glint in her eyes. “Fine words, Tennebris. The streets are full of ‘em, and they don’t buy a loaf of bread, or keep a roof above your head. I track beasts, yes, and I fight them when I must. But I do it for coin, not for ‘the bigger picture’ or some grand idea that we’ll make a difference.”

  She took a step back, her gaze sweeping over Tennebris. “So, you found some giant tracks leading into the Shrouded Hollow. That’s a good piece of information. A dangerous one. But information doesn’t pay my debts, and it certainly won’t pay for the arrows I’d likely burn tracking whatever did that.” Crossing her arms, her posture issued a clear challenge.

  “Unfortunately, it’s the most I can offer you. I understand your hesitation; however, I don’t even have the coin to feed myself. In fact, the last time I ate was on the night of the attack. There was an overturned bread cart that I was able to help myself to after my fight.” Tennebris challenged, with her eyes never leaving Mheris’.

  Mheris cast a calculating gaze upon Tennebris’ earnest face, then down to her worn clothes. Looking for signs of truth in Tennebris’ words, a faint smile returned to Mheris’ face. This time, however, it held less amusement, and more cynical understanding. “Robbed a bread cart, eh? This city’s truly gone to the dogs then.” She nodded slowly, a grim acceptance in her expression. “So, you’re offering me a grand purpose, a noble cause, and all the starvation you can endure.”

  Mheris took a deliberate step forward, and dropped her voice to a low, conspiratorial tone. “Look Tennebris, I don’t work for free. Never have. But you’ve got guts, I’ll grant you that. Tracking those things back to the Shrouded Hollow was suicidal. And you’ve got good information, which sometimes, can be worth more than a few coppers. If you want me to lend a hand with whatever monstrous beast made those tracks, you’ll need to find a way to make it worth my while. I’m not saying coin is the only thing, but it’s usually the easiest.”

  She paused, her eyes piercing. “Or, you could find something else, something I need. Something hard to get. You’re a thief, aren’t you? Get creative.”

  “Well, if we can get paid for doing the right thing then that would be ideal. In the meantime,… got anything to eat? I’m starving!” Tennebris demanded with a lighthearted smile.

  Mheris’ stern expression cracked, a faint, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips. “Starving, are we? And you think I’m running the charity kitchen?” She let out another dry chuckle, then reached into a worn leather pouch at her hip.

  Pulling out a piece of dried venison, hard and dark, along with a slightly squashed apple she gave it a quick appraising look. It seemed to Tennebris she was balancing a scale, to ensure the trade was even.

  “Here,” she grunted, tossing them both to Tennebris. “Consider it an investment. I’ve got a nose for trouble, and you Tennebris, smell like a whole heap of it. Now eat and tell me what exactly you found out there. Every gouge, every scorch mark. Details. That’s what I trade in.”

  Tearing the dried venison in half, the rough texture a welcome sensation in her mouth. "Wouldn't you want to see it for yourself instead?” Tennebris proposed, a spark of adventure lighting her eyes. Swallowing the other half of the venison and biting into the apple, she continued “If you’re up for it, I can take you there first thing tomorrow morning.”